Red, Red Wine
by Chelsea Oz
Summary: One shot. Uncle Jack switches from brandy to wine as the memories of his sister-in-law and nephew flood his head after their untimely deaths.


What the hell was Jean Graham Finch still doing to me and my brother after all these years? I was there when she came into my brother's life and I was pretty much there when she left my brother's life. Now the same thing could be said for her son. I was there for his birth and god-fucking-damnit I was there for his death.

 _"Jack."_

That was my name all right, but I recognized that shrill of his voice whenever he was going to tell me something grim. From my parents' death, to Jean's, to Tom Robinson's to Bob Ewell's; there was no mistaken it.

 _"What happened now?"_

I didn't want to know.

 _"Jem's gone and I don't know what to do."_

The world stopped spinning when he said that to me. Never in a million years did I think that precious little man would be the one to meet such a premature death. I worried about Jean Louise for years because I figured since heart disease ran on her mother's side of the family, it had to be a woman's issue. To think of all the time that I wasted worrying about the wrong one.

 _"What do you mean he's gone?"_

I knew what the fuck my brother was saying. I just didn't want to believe it. Who could blame me?

 _"I mean he's lying face down on the sidewalk outside our office and I don't know what to do."_

 _"Inhale and exhale."_

 _"What?"_

 _"Breathe, Atticus. Breathe until you're ready."_

 _"Ready for what?"_

 _"For that next step."_

 _"What is the next step? My son just died and I don't know what to do!"_

 _"Take a seat and breathe until I come fetch you. Don't you dare to anything stupid!"_

That was the best advice that I could give him. It's not easy advice especially considering a situation as traumatic as that. You don't want to breathe, you don't want to accept, you don't want to be.

Jem's eyes were still opened when I turned him over to look at him. The way he looked at me post-mortem is something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. Why were they open? If they were closed, it would have given me the illusion that maybe he just fell asleep all of a sudden. He was wide awake and I could tell he suffered right until the last second. Sometimes I wish I never became a doctor.

There is nothing worse than a woman's scream of agony. Alexandra, Calpurnia and Jean Louise all had different tones but they were singing the same sad song. I helped Atticus bring Jem home to be washed up and without saying a word, Calpurnia had left the house. She left with wide eyes and a shut mouth; she couldn't take it. I watched as Alexandra washed him up and dressed him in his best suit; the one he was supposed to get married in. Zandra was the one who ended up calling his bride-to-be. I had forgotten all about her and I was not about to hear another woman shriek.

My niece, my beautiful niece. I picked her up from the airport and I swore that she had not stopped crying since I broke the news to her. She looked like the little lost lamb that she must have felt like. I hugged her tight and didn't say a word to her for the longest time. God, if I could take her pain away I would.

I didn't even bother to try to reach Caroline. I don't have her telephone number or her address anymore. Over the years she had become the family sinner, the black sheep and I thought it best if she weren't around anyway. Alexandra had never found it in her heart to forgive Caroline for living her life as she wished and Lord knows there would have been a row and that was the last thing anybody needed at this time.

The funeral was as sad and sentimental as one could expect. The only thing that was amusing was the fact Jean Louise wore a hat. Society rules for women can kiss that girl's ass. I asked her what in the world and she said that Jem would have found it funny. I held her close and silently thanked God that she must have had some moment of clarity.

Clarity? What's that? From the looks of things, you don't find it in the bottom of a wine bottle. I usually drink brandy but red wine has sounded good ever since that awful day when Jem was gone and Atticus didn't know what to do. I chuckle as I head over to open up another bottle while Rose Alymer meows at me.

"I guess brandy doesn't do it for me anymore, old girl," I tell her as I pop the cork.

Rose Alymer meowed at me again. I shrugged and took a big gulp straight from the bottle.

"Just doing whatever it takes to forget, I guess."

There was no forgetting this though. All the brandy, and wine, and God knows what else was not going to do a damn thing for my memory. So why do I continue to drink? Like Atticus, I knew that Jem was gone and I didn't know what to do.


End file.
